


Serving Justice

by misura



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>About halfway through his closing arguments, Will loses patience with the jury. (The reverse has happened a considerable time ago, in some cases, or is still some handful of seconds away, in other ones.) Hannibal watches it happen, </i>sees<i> it happen, because when Will argues, Hannibal never listens to what he's saying. He doesn't need to.</i> (lawyers!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serving Justice

About halfway through his closing arguments, Will loses patience with the jury. (The reverse has happened a considerable time ago, in some cases, or is still some handful of seconds away, in other ones.) Hannibal watches it happen, _sees_ it happen, because when Will argues, Hannibal never listens to what he's saying. He doesn't need to.

The thing about Will that makes him a good lawyer (according to some) is also the thing that makes him a bad one: Will believes in his client's cause. Always.

Will is not here to do a job, so much as he's here to share the truth as he's aware of it - trying to get twelve people to see that same truth.

Unfortunately for Will (and fortunately for the rest of their colleagues), most people view truth as a relative concept at best. A jury might be willing to be convinced, but Will's not really about convincing people. He feels that if you simply tell someone the truth, they should recognize it as such.

He is right only in Hannibal's case.

Everyone else merely sees Will as another lawyer, wearing a poorly fitting, poorly chosen suit, who displays, perhaps, a great deal more passion than most.

That passion does carry some weight - if Will gets truly angry (which he does at least once a week), Hannibal experiences it very nearly as a physical presence, hot and demanding and compelling. When Will's furious enough, it doesn't matter how cynical or indecisive a jury is, because Will can make them see what he sees through sheer force of will.

It's an emotional thing, though, a feeling. Will's argument is like a wave, sweeping people off their feet.

Hannibal's argument, after, is like a towel: soft and warm and comfortable. Easy to grasp. Simple to understand. Hannibal appeals to reason, gets people to use their eyes and what they think are their brains - he makes them feel that, in order to decide if someone is guilty, they should only use logic.

Today, Will doesn't really seem to manage 'furious'. He's frustrated, yes, and annoyed, definitely, but most of those emotions appear focused on the jury, who may not be smart enough to see the truth when someone tries to push their noses into it, but who still realize when someone is calling them a bunch of idiots in his head.

Human nature being what it is, Hannibal reckons Will has just won this case for him.

It's as good a reason as any, he supposes, to invite Will for lunch next Saturday.

(He'd make it this afternoon, and dinner-with-optional-breakfast instead of lunch, except that he's regrettably short on ingredients - some grocery shopping in advance is most definitely required.)

 

"Your client," Will says, half-eaten ham sandwich in one hand, "is a pig."

Hannibal smiles. The lack of a courtroom doesn't notably decrease the warm sensation of Will's passion, of his _belief_ (that's not really belief at all, in the sense that Will _knows_ ).

"That might be his brother you're eating, then."

Will makes a sound that Hannibal decides to classify as a laugh and takes another bite.

"A joke," Hannibal says. "He was an only child."

"I don't care," Will says, chewing and looking not unhappy. "Fuck him. This is a good sandwich."

"Special recipe." Hannibal likes to feed Will, especially after these kinds of cases. Will is a sore loser, but Hannibal knows how to be a gracious victor, so it evens out, more or less.

Food helps, too, usually. Will is remarkably easy to placate, most of the time.

"With you, it's always a special recipe."

Hannibal shrugs. "I like to cook."

"It's a sandwich," Will says. "Making a sandwich is not cooking. _I_ can make a sandwich."

"I was thinking that perhaps you'd let me cook you dinner."

"Don't think I could stop you," Will says, which is not entirely true.

Close enough, though.


End file.
